


Snap & Shatter

by Starbuck7



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: ...Kinda..., Cuban Lance (Voltron), Fluff and Angst, Keith crash lands on earth, Lance is a Trekkie, Lance wants to join the Federation and honestly who wouldn't?, M/M, Slow Burn, Star Trek AU, Star Trek References, did I mention it's slow burn?, living weapon AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-04-26 03:15:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14393112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starbuck7/pseuds/Starbuck7
Summary: A surprise Galra attack on the Altean Cruiser "Harborage" was the last thing Keith expected that morning, much less crashing to Earth and gaining an unlikely ally in an off-beat Garrison student.When Lance opened his front door that afternoon, he definitely wasn’t planning to find a crashed Coalition operative with a propensity for finding trouble--and breaking every single piece of glass in Lance's house.There was really no reason to trust Lance. Helping Keith made less than no sense.But hey,what are random strangers for?*on a hopefully temporary hiatus*





	1. MPs are Assholes

**Author's Note:**

> I am so excited! This will be a 15-chapter fic, to be released bi-weekly. The normal release date will be Tuesday starting next week. But I promise this will be updated consistently. I'm even releasing next week, and I'm _moving_ next week.
> 
> Thank you to the wonderful [biitterbatter](http://biitterbatter.tumblr.com/) for collabing with me and allowing me to bring his vision to life. Months of work are really paying off. So proud of our beautiful space nerds!

The final morning of his journey came with a bang, pod shuddering beneath him and alarms blaring in his ears. Keith hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but the tedium had apparently gotten the better of him. Eyes whipping open in a panic, he instinctively ran through one of Shiro’s breathing exercises to bring his emotions under control. 

_Breathe in, count to three._

_Breathe out, count to six._

Continuing the exercise, slowly, his heart rate lowered and the panic eased. But the pod continued to shake. _Why isn’t this working?_

Keith struggled to keep his frustration in check as he scanned the display for whatever damage he caused. He was surprised to discover that the shaking--for once--wasn’t his fault. He sighed in relief.

 _Oh, good. I’m just crashing,_ thought Keith.

He relaxed into the reclined seat for a moment, before sitting bolt upright. “Wait!” he shouted, “No, no no. This is not good.” Quick fingers flicked over the display to pull up his fast-approaching destination. 

A scan of his landing coordinates showed a small desert area outside a smaller town. He wasn’t too far off the mark. Keith would land a few vargas’ walk from his final destination, _if_ he could survive the descent to the blue-green planet. Adjusting the controls and recalculating his entry trajectory, Keith pleaded with his panel, “C’mon, you can make it. Hang in there!” 

The whole capsule shook as he broke atmosphere and hurtled toward the ground, even the pod’s therma-coating unable to protect him from the friction heat of re-entry. Sweat drenching his brow in the oven-like air, Keith held on for dear life, teeth rattling in his head with the violently shuddering cabin. The tiny pod bounced a few times, each time lurching Keith forward against his harness and slamming his head back against the seat. The straps cut deep through his suit and Keith knew there would be bruising, even with his escalated healing. The hard earth rose up to meet him. 

Keith braced for impact.

Thick white foam surrounded him, puffing up to protect him as the pod skidded across the surface of the planet. Keith coughed into the dry, chalky substance that encompassed him, gasping for air as he felt the world turn around him. His stomach lurched uncomfortably. But the foam held him steady through the motion, pinning him in place until he felt the movement halt. It began dissolving into a fine powder around him, Keith’s arms falling suddenly to his sides without the support of the emergency spray. Within a dobosh there was a fine layer dusting his suit, and Keith could safely kick out the emergency release hatch.

The door clattered off its hinges, falling to the dusty ground below. Keith dragged himself out, landing beside the remains of the door, and his battered body ached as it collided into the packed desert soil. He climbed to his feet and dusted himself off. The afternoon sun blazed overhead and glared off the horizon in shimmering waves; he raised an arm to block its rays so he could view the damage. 

It wasn’t a pretty sight from the outside. The impact foam was clearly the only thing that saved him. The pod’s frame lay scattered in a crater outward from the final crash site, the path behind it littered with fragments from the initial impact before the pod skipped across the ground like a rock across still water to its final resting place. The hatch he kicked out was attached to a twisted framework. It connected to the seat housing and most of the caged support beams making up the outer framework of the pod. But nearly everything else was missing; the outer shell and metallic frame behind and beneath the seat were practically vaporized. 

Keith sighed and crawled back into the cabin, examining the comms unit attached to the dash. The circuitry was completely fried, shattered slag in its place. It was clear from a moment’s inspection that the pod left nothing behind worth salvaging. Keith slammed his fist against the burnt frame as he exited the ship. 

“I hope Shiro’s pod makes it here in better shape.” He reached up and flicked his hood over his head, activating a dark gray mask with stylized blue luminescent markings that also served as a helmet, enclosing his suit against the warm weather and dust. Taking brief stock of his body to ensure there was nothing broken, Keith pulled the coordinate chip from his suit belt and inserted it into the reader slot on his right wrist. The coordinates mapped out in a hologram above his forearm. He read the challenge sign attached to the coordinates, and accompanying countersign answer to match it, so he’d know when he met the right contact. Gritting his teeth, Keith headed toward the city.

The trek through the desert was uneventful--just packed, dry earth with inhospitable looking brambled bushes, and the occasional spine-covered vegetation. The city, however, was a different matter entirely. The humans seemed to find his outfit rather curious. People pointed, stared, and unfortunately seemed to alert the local peacekeeping officials to his presence. Sprinting from a fast-moving vehicle and its flashing lights, Keith huffed in an alleyway. He decided to avoid main thoroughfares from then on, opting to sneak through back alleys and the private enclosed gardens people fenced off behind their homes.

It was in one such enclosed garden near the center of town that Keith finally found what he was looking for. The coordinates had led him not to the _main_ house, but to a small structure behind it, occupying a corner of its manicured wilderness. Keith ducked close to a wooden fence at the sound of peacekeepers speeding through the streets in search of him. This was a lot more attention than he’d expected, and he didn’t have Shiro to help. Keith made a private wish that Shiro’s pod would get here ahead of schedule. He’d know what to do.

The sirens growing distant, Keith decided to inch toward the structure in a crouch. He circled it and found a door on either side, opting for the back door facing away from both the larger house and the street. The tool kit in his belt made short work of the lock. Cautiously, he opened the door. 

At first Keith wasn’t exactly sure what he was seeing. There was a table and a lounging area in the space in front of him, and what looked to be a galley of some kind for preparing food in the area to his left. But it was the being on the table directly in front of him that caught Keith’s gaze. A pair of intelligent, stunning blue eyes stared up at him. Keith gently closed the door behind him, not breaking contact even for a moment. He cautiously approached those hesitant eyes, deactivating the mask and letting his hood fall.

“We could really use some rain,” Keith said, letting the Sign hang in the air, poised to leave should the Countersign not match. The handsome, blue-eyed being cocked its neck to the side, observing him. A moment later, its eyes darting over his every inch, a mouth opened tentatively to speak.

“Mrrrrrraw?” it trilled, and Keith frowned. Apparently the translation chip in his suit couldn’t make out the language of this creature. It had a limited number of languages uploaded, and could only extrapolate further with a significant sample of translated audio samples. He’d hoped they’d spoken English, since it was the only Earth language he knew.

“Can you understand me?” No response. He’d heard of creatures like these ones communicating telepathically, so he cleared his mind and thought as clearly as he could manage.

_Can you understand me?_

“Maaaaw,” it moaned and Keith pursed his lips, stepping forward cautiously. Perhaps it wasn’t capable of telepathy after all. Perhaps some non-verbal communication was in order. 

He removed a glove, raising a hand toward blue-eyes, “It’s alright. I’m a friend.”

“Mmmmhmf,” it huffed, leaning out a neck of gray fur as his hand reached its neck, bumping its head against his outstretched hand. It was going to take a lot of work to figure out any kind of speech pattern. Blue-eyes kept nuzzling against his hand, so he gently let his fingers brush against the luxurious fur. Soon the creature was making a deep throaty trill, like a whisper, as it continued to rub its cheek against his outstretched hand. Keith smiled softly. 

“You like that?” he asked, and the creature gestured at his hand with a paw, gently pulling it closer with a set of claws. Keith laughed under his breath, standing closer with an arm outstretched. Suddenly, the gray-furred creature was climbing him until it was perched on his shoulder. Keith froze. He cocked his head to one side and peered cautiously at it. It started pacing from shoulder to shoulder, Keith twisting in a circle so the creature didn’t fall. 

“This has been a very strange day for me, Blue Eyes. I don’t suppose _you_ know who I’m supposed to make contact with?”

Keith heard the sound too late. He had no time to move--even had he dared with the fluffball occupying his shoulder--or to stop speaking before a human was standing in the open doorway. The human held something pinched in between its head and shoulder, gaping at Keith, who stared back wide-eyed.

“What, Hunk?” the human--a young man, it seemed--said. It was the voice that gave him away; the young man’s face was pretty enough that Keith couldn’t tell at first. He had blue eyes, too--slightly darker than the creature perched on Keith’s shoulder--and a head of brown hair. 

“Yeah, man, I’m home safe… Yeah, I mean, if the Garrison is involved, it’s gotta be more than space junk. Can I...can I call you back in a sec? Yeah, I’ll call you after class.” Long fingers pulled the phone from its resting place on his shoulder and pressed the screen, his free hand closing the door. 

Keith spared a moment to wonder how many beings on this planet sported eyes so blue, before anger burned behind those jeweled irises, the man’s full attention rounding on him in a moment. 

“I--” Keith began, but was cut off.

Three long steps brought the interloper face-to-face with Keith, “Who are you and what are you doing in my house? And--” the man took an exasperated breath, “ _why_ are you trying to talk to _my cat?_ ” 

Keith peered at the animal on his shoulder. Ownership suggested a pet rather than a sentient life form like the ones he’d known. Keith wasn’t sure how deeply he blushed, but looking at the gray floof on his shoulder, he felt the misunderstanding was reasonable. Obviously it was a _smart_ cat.

“I’m just…” Keith began, unsure what to say. Could this boy be trusted? He opted for the challenge sign, to see if he was Keith’s contact, “We could use some rain.” 

The boy across from him squished his head down to his shoulders so his orange jacket pushed up against his ears, squinting his eyes and shaking his head. “Really? You broke into my house to talk about the weather?”

“Well… no,” Keith admitted, flustered and unsure how to proceed. The young man failed the challenge code. Keith should go, right? Then again, where was he supposed to go? And how would he meet up with Shiro if not at these coordinates?

Luckily enough, Keith wouldn’t need to consider or explain his position much longer, since the sounds of peacekeeping forces pounding on a distant door wafted across the garden.. The boy peeked over his shoulder at it and Keith ducked down. The cat jumped indignantly from his shoulder and headed through an open door out of sight. His breathing turned erratic and a familiar buzz bloomed in the back of his skull, he tried focusing on a glass mug on the table. Keith desperately scrambled to squelch his feelings before--

_Pop._

The glass shattered, spraying the surrounding area with fragments, a few bouncing off Keith’s suit. The colorful cup was the first thing he could focus on, and it was better than letting it go off unconsciously. 

“I’m so sorry!” Keith apologized, panic edging his voice as he looked down at the fractured remains. _Breathe, Keith._ Breathe, _dammit!_ He locked eyes with the human who was starting forward with an intensity that made Keith step back.

Only a pace away, the boy spoke in a low voice, “Are they after you?” 

“I…” Was there any point in lying? Keith set his jaw and nodded. “Yes. They’re after me.”

“Did you do something wrong?”

“I crashed,” Keith said simply, peering around the young man to see if there was any movement through the window.

Blue eyes flashed recognition, and he reached out, grabbing Keith’s arm and dragging him through a doorway on his right. Private quarters, Keith realized, before being stuffed into an adjoining closet. The brunet crouched and moved a pile of linens from their position on the floor to reveal… a trapdoor? He swung it open and looked up expectantly at Keith.

Keith raised an eyebrow in question, confusion lacing his features. 

“It’s access under the house for repairs,” he clarified. “Get in!” Keith didn’t need to be told twice. Shooting a grateful look at his savior, he slid down through the trapdoor to the dirt ground beneath. He ducked his head down and crouched low to fit in the tight clearance. Keith looked up just in time to watch the hatch bury him in darkness.

 

\---------------

 

Alright, so this was a dumb idea. A _really_ dumb idea. Maybe the _dumbest_ idea Lance ever had the misfortune of coming up with. What the hell was he even _thinking?_

He replaced the stack of linens as neatly as he could over the entrance and sprinted out into the main room in time to hear deep thuds on the front door. Lance didn’t even bother with the shattered glass mug in the kitchen. Instead, he sauntered to the door-- keeping his pace light, but allowing the genuine panic on his face to remain. He was allowed to be worried about pounding on his door, right?

Lance threw the door open.

“Sirs, what’s going on?” he managed to ask, before a group of MPs pushed past him into the living room. “Or, I don’t know, come right in I guess?”

“We have reports of an individual in the area wanted for questioning,” a broad man in Garrison green barked. “Dark flight suit, black or dark blue, wearing a mask and hood. Have you seen anyone matching that description?”

“Uh…” Lance considered. It was always best to lie in the most truthful way possible, he found. “I’m pretty sure I’d remember someone traipsing around the suburbs in a hood and mask.”

“Then you wouldn’t mind if we searched the premises?” He gave a motion and two MPs broke off to search his kitchen cabinets and his bedroom. 

“What?” Lance asked, eyes wide. “My place is tiny! I would have noticed someone in here.” Again, it wasn’t totally _in_ correct. He definitely noticed.

“And the broken glass?” the kitchen MP asked.

“I dropped it when I heard you pounding at the main house, like, twelve seconds before you got here.” Okay, not exactly the truth, but a believable lie. He knew that damn glass was going to cause problems. _Dumbest decision **of my life** , and possibly anyone **else’s** life in the **history of lifes!**_ Lance’s mind screamed at him, while his mouth tried its best to get him out of this situation. “Look, there’s nothing here. And, frankly, this kinda feels like an invasion of privacy.”

“And yet regulation GA-SB7 clearly indicates that Garrison student housing, and any officially sanctioned housing for Garrison cadets, is subject to random searches without prior notification.”

Oh no he didn’t. This guy wasn’t going to quote regulation at him right now. No way. Lance scanned his memory of the handbook. “Which apply to commercial housing approved for Garrison use.” He remembered now, they’d just had a test on this exact regulation last week. Luck was on his side. “ _But_ subsection _A_ includes exclusions for students living on personally owned private property. _Like me._ My family owns this casita, sir.” Lance said, trying not to smirk at his triumph too soon. 

When the large MP Investigator frowned, Lance almost lost his cool. He only just held it together by pursing his lips in what he hoped looked like concern. 

“Find anything?” the man called into the bedroom, and Lance said a silent prayer that the hatch remained undiscovered.

“No, sir,” a call came back, and Lance privately celebrated.

“I told you, you this place is tiny! Someone couldn’t hide in here without me knowing.” _Definitely true._ “You can literally hear the toilet flush from every corner of the house.”

“Why _are_ you home so early, Cadet…?” _Oh, here we go…_

“Cadet Lance Espinoza, sir. I was…” Lance sighed, and now the lip pursing was genuine. “I was sent home early for the day, pending disciplinary review, sir. You can contact Commander Iverson on base to confirm.”

“Disciplinary review, huh?” the man sneered. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

 _No need to be an asshole about it!_ Lance held his tongue, not trusting himself to speak civilly with this arrogant little--. Lance left the words unspoken, eyes narrowed but forcing a smile all the same.

“Well, everything appears to be in order, though you should be more careful with your belongings.” The MPs opened the door and moved out, though the Investigator stayed. “Good afternoon, Cadet. I trust you’ll learn something from this review. I’d hate for you to accrue any more disciplinary actions on your record.”

Lance couldn’t have been happier to lock the door behind that smug little son of a---

“Oh, crow!” Lance exclaimed as he turned the tumbler, suddenly remembering the dark-haired man in the crawl space beneath him. Lance jogged to his room, turning right into the closet and tugging the linens off the crawl space door on his left, all the while wondering why he’d helped the guy in the first place. Didn’t he have enough trouble without going looking for it? Propping open the hatch, Lance saw the startled face of the man in the dark suit, concern etched in every otherwise perfect feature of that pale face, purple eyes shimmering as they gazed up at him.

 _Oh, right._ That’s _why I helped him._

“Here, lemme give you a hand.” Lance offered an arm, which the other man grasped gratefully, hoisting himself through the opening with ease. The guy looked thin, but there was definitely muscle on his frame. 

“Look, you should probably stay here a couple more minutes. It’s the quietest place in the house, and the only room with no windows. I’ll go make a sweep, just to check that they’re really gone.” The man nodded, and Lance left him to do just that. He even went out back--ostensibly to turn on the sprinklers manually--and gave the whole yard a once over before walking back inside to release the man in his closet.

“So,” Lance said, swinging the door open with a wry smile, “you hungry?”

“Uh…” the man began, looking confused. But soon after he was tossing his head to the side, his eyebrows raised. “I really am.”

Lance nodded toward the kitchen, “Come on.” 

Leading him down the hall and offering his guest a chair at the table, he pulled a loaf of bread off the top of the refrigerator and tossed a couple slices in the toaster. “I’m not exactly Iron Chef, over here, so egg on toast is the best I can do right now.” 

“Uh… whatever is fine,” the man in the suit replied. That’s when it occurred to Lance that he should figure out something other than ‘the man in the suit’ to call this guy. Opening the fridge, Lance grabbed the carton of eggs, and a pan from the cabinet next to it, and set to work making a snack for each of them.

“So, who are you, anyway?” He asked over his shoulder as he worked. It took a moment for any reply to come.

“Um…. My name is Keith.” 

Lance nodded. “Keith,” he said, considering. It wasn’t the name he’d expected--there were probably exactly zero scenarios in which he would have seen the name ‘Keith’ coming. _But_ it’s not like Lance had any idea what exactly he _should_ have anticipated. 

“The name’s Lance.”

“Nice to meet you, Lance.”

And that was it. That was all Lance had in him. He seriously needed to calm down to take in whatever the hell was happening here. The crashed intruder sat in silence awaiting any further questions, eyes cautiously flicking around the room. He could swear Keith looked away from Lance’s back any time he peered over at him. Sometimes he’d catch those purple eyes, for just a moment, and his stomach would do little somersaults. 

A few minutes of awkward, wordless, back-and-forth staring later, the food was cooked and _thankfully_ not burned. Lance dropped the finished plate in front of Keith with a flourish. Keith eyed the goopy over easy egg that sat perched on a generously buttered slice of toast.

“Thank you,” Keith said, stopping just shy of poking the unfamiliar food. Lance picked up the slice and bit right in, yolk breaking and slowly dripping its half-cooked creamy center onto the toast around it. Having watched Lance model the proper way to eat, Keith mimicked the action with ease. “It’s good,” he remarked between bites.

“I’m pleased you like it,” Lance said, like some kind of damned Jane Austen suitor, then cringed. _I’m pleased you-- Really??_ Yeah, he had exactly zero chill right now. _Take a breath, Lance. It’s all okay._

Keith jumped as a sleek gray floof jumped in front of him on the table and Lance smirked.

“You already met Moreh,” Lance said, scratching the Russian blue on the top of her head, as she gratefully rolled her head to one side to offer an ear for scratches, beautiful eyes closing. Both finished, Lance cleared the plates and Keith took over scratching the Russian blue’s chin and cheek.

“Nice to meet you, Moreh,” Keith whispered, almost nose to nose with the cat. If judged by the eyes alone, he felt he could be forgiven for mixing up this creature with Lance. 

Lance spun back, dropping into the seat across from Keith and drinking in that fond look he adopted when smiling down at Lance’s cat. He couldn’t blame the guy; Moreh was a beautiful specimen. Lance laughed under his breath. “So when I came in, it kinda seemed like you were asking my cat a question. You _do_ know cats can’t talk, _right_?”

“I do now…” Keith dropped his head slightly and the embarrassed blush of his cheeks made Lance guffaw. 

“Seriously? I was literally joking.” Keith’s brow furrowed in frustration and Lance let his laughter ease. He was feeling a bit more relaxed now. Lance heaved a sigh. “Alright, Keith, you said you crashed?”

He nodded. “Just outside of town.”

“I assume you’re talking about a ship or aircraft, or the Garrison wouldn’t be involved.”

“Emergency pod,” Keith confirmed, and Lance nodded. 

“So you aren’t Garrison, then?” The plum-toned eyes squinted in confusion. “The people in uniform, you don’t belong to their organization.”

“No,” Keith replied leaning back in the folding chair. “I’ve never even been to Earth before.”

“Wait. So... You’re not _human?_ ” The alien named Keith shifted uncomfortably in his seat, absently smoothing the fur of Moreh’s back.

“Look, all I can say is that I was supposed to meet a local contact at these coordinates.”

“The coordinates... for my house?” Lance cracked a smile. “Hate to break it to you, but I think you got the wrong place, there, buddy.”

“These were the coordinates Shiro gave me. We got separated, and until I meet up with him--”

“I’m gonna stop you right there.” Lance held up a hand, closing his eyes and pursing his lips in disbelief. He took a moment to process before opening them again to continue, “Shiro-…” he twirled his hand in the air as if to summon the words to his mouth, “ _gane_? As in Takashi Shirogane?” 

Keith’s eyes widened, then slitted themselves skeptically. “You... know Shiro?”

“Are you kidding?” Lance asked, tenting both hands on the table’s surface and leaning halfway across as he spoke. “ _Everybody_ knows Shirogane. He’s a legend! He’s living my actual childhood dream of joining the Federation!”

Keith blinked, neck craning back from Lance’s sudden invasion. “The Federation?”

“Oh, you know what I mean,” Lance waved his hand flippantly, settling back in his seat. “The Coalition of Planets. He was invited to join the Coalition at _nineteen_ , and got an ambassadorship, like, right away. I’d _kill_ to work with the Alteans.” Lance paused, eyes flicking over Keith’s noticeably confused face. “So... You work with him, huh?”

“Um…” Keith took a breath, cocking his head to the side, “yeah, basically.”

“You’re an alien working with the Coalition, so…” Lance rolled his hands around each other in thought, “why did the Garrison MPs go after you? The Garrison is just a training facility for Coalition cadets. It might be run by humans, but they still have to follow all Coalition protocols.”

“We sort of… left in a hurry,” Keith said, chewing his lip as he looked at the floor to his right, and Lance watched as Moreh paced in front of him, nuzzling Keith’s hand as it rested on the table. He laughed under his breath and began petting her once more. “I don’t have Coalition ident. They’ll know I have alien genetics right away, and without ident… Shiro probably has his, though, and he can vouch for me when he gets here.”

“So... he’s coming here?” Lance’s voice went breathy, he swallowed.

Keith’s lips pursed. “Yeah, well… His course should have taken a few vargas longer than mine. But yes, these are the coordinates he gave me. He should be coming here.”

“Ooh, I know this one,” Lance offered, eyes flicking up toward the ceiling as he made the calculations. “A varga is just under an hour and a half. So that’s, what--four, four and a half hours?”

“Um…” Keith’s lips shrugged. “I don’t know what an hour is.”

“That’s okay, it’s a pretty good estimate. We just studied this at the Garrison a couple weeks ago. Basics of alien interaction. The Altean unit is pretty important.”

“You… you study at the Garrison?”

“Yeah. I’m training to be Coalition one day. Can’t let Shirogane get all the glory, right? Look, why don’t you hang here until he shows up?” he said a little too eagerly. Lance leaned back in his chair, staring off into space, a smile playing on his lips, “Damn, I’ve always wanted to meet him.”

“Uh…” Keith hesitated, and Lance could see the wheels turning. Keith was supposed to be meeting a _contact_ here, someone actually qualified to help himself and Shiro get in touch with the Alteans and ensure safe harbor and transport to a secure location. And instead he’d gotten a random stranger. Keith sighed, bringing Lance back to the moment. “Can I ask you one question?”

“Shoot,” Lance replied, but Keith quirked an eyebrow. Right. Alien. “It means go ahead. Sorry, I forget you’re not from Earth. Your English is really good.”

“Shiro taught me,” he responded with a blush, then took a deep breath. “This is a lot of risk. I guess I want to know--why are you helping me?”

“Well….” Lance’s face scrunched up as he considered, gaze drifting off at nothing in particular. That was a very good question, the particulars of which Lance was working very hard _not_ to think about. But, whatever other motives may have inspired him, Lance knew very well why. He just couldn’t help himself. 

“I saw your face when the MPs came close, and… you looked kinda freaked out. I mean, blowing up one of my cups aside--you’ll have to explain that to me later, by the way--you weren’t threatening. You were scared. I guess I couldn’t see that look in your eye and not do the right thing.”

“I don’t know if this is the ‘right thing’. For either of us, if I’m being honest.”

“Who knows?” Lance replied. “But you know, my mom’s always said this little casita is supposed to be a shelter from the storm for those who need it.” Keith’s head whipped up, his eyes wide, but Lance continued, “So, I think she’d want me to use it to help you.” 

 

\---------------

 

And there it was. Just as Keith was about to give up and sneak back to the crash site to see if Shiro landed nearby, Lance had to go and speak the only thing that could have kept him from leaving. The two word Countersign to his challenge code. Keith recalled the words among the hologram coordinates--Sign ‘rain’, Countersign ‘storm’ and ‘shelter’. Lance knew the countersign, even if he had no idea what it meant. Keith gaped at the brunet boy across from him. Maybe he’d come to the right place after all.

“Alright, Lance,” Keith said, giving him a half-smile that he knew didn’t reach his eyes. “I guess I’m waiting here with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU FOR READING!! I love comments, so send them my way! 
> 
> Very special thanks go out to biitterbatter, without whom this fic would not exist. The inspiration for this work and also the creator of some beautiful artwork in this Living Weapon AU. Check them out, there's more art to come next chapter!! [Follow biitterbatter on Tumblr!](http://biitterbatter.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Gobs of thanks go to GlassAlice, for their help beta-ing this beast. (why can't I just write one-shots like everyone else???) Anyway, [follow GlassAlice on Tumblr!](http://yuzuling.tumblr.com/)


	2. No News is Good News....?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith and Lance wait for news of Shiro. Keith learns more about Lance's mom. And Lance's learns what Keith looks like without a shirt on. 
> 
> uwu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg, guys. So, I know I promised I'd post last week. And I had Chapter 2 ready to go as soon as I moved. And then I hurt my right knee really badly. I guess moving from a 2nd to 3rd floor apartment is, like, hundreds of flights of stairs when you move basically by yourself??? Doctors do not recommend for people with pre-existing knee injuries.  
> (っ- ‸ – ς) 
> 
> And then I had to get a new laptop. Which I got yesterday. But I have all my wips saved! Yay!!
> 
> Anyway, I'll be posting again on TUESDAY, May 15th. So you won't have to wait long for chapter 3. Then we'll be back on weekly.

The deadline passed. Lance moved them to the couch so Keith would be more comfortable. And they waited. The sun dropped below the horizon, Keith listening to Lance’s awkward small talk about the best sunsets. And they waited. Lance made them both sandwiches for a quick dinner. And they waited. Lance checked the local news for any word of Shiro, or a second crash. And they waited. 

And through it all, Keith kept rationalizing, thinking up excuses for why Shiro’s pod might be delayed. Shiro could have trajectory issues with his pod, or insufficient power to make the journey, resulting in an alternate destination. Maybe he’d gotten here in advance of Keith, but at the wrong coordinates. Perhaps he was slowly making his way to Keith to reconnect. 

Then Keith wondered if he’d really seen Shiro’s pod eject at all. What if he’d imagined it? What if Shiro was trapped aboard the Harborage when the Galra overcame them? Or what if something was wrong with the coordinates? What if Keith had come to the wrong place after all? In the end, he had no way of knowing. And so he waited.

But Shiro didn’t come.

“I get it, Pidge. I’m just asking, alright?” Lance said, voice raising defensively as he paced across what passed for a living room. Keith was poised at the edge of the couch, watching his host drift anxious circles though the house. “I get that it’s…” Lance shot Keith a tentative look, dropping his voice for a moment, “not a hundred percent legal. I just figured, maybe you got curious and wanted to know more about the object, right? Fine… Yeah, I know... Look, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Lance huffed, collapsing on the couch next to him. Keith bit his lip and ventured a question, “Nothing?” 

“I’m sorry. I hoped one of my friends would’ve heard _something_ after I left yesterday. But they both said the instructors’re playing everything close to the vest.” He shot Keith a sidelong look, Lance’s face falling for a moment. Keith tried to wipe what was undoubtedly a pathetic look from his features. “But I’ll…. I’ll see if Pidge is willing to dig a little deeper tomorrow. It’s gonna be fine!” 

He slapped a reassuring hand on Keith’s shoulder. It reminded him of Shiro, but there was something else there, a nervous energy he wasn’t used to that bubbled up inside his middle. Keith pushed the anxious feeling away, smiling gratefully at Lance.

“Thanks,” he said, not wanting to move and cause Lance to take his hand away. “I just hoped we’d have something by now. I need to _do_ something.”

“It’s ten thirty. There’s nothing to do at this point. We should both just get some sleep for now.” Lance pulled his hand from Keith’s shoulder, slapping both legs as he stood from the couch. Keith’s breath caught.

_Sleep._

“Right,” Keith replied. Sleep was the _last_ thing he wanted to do. Not here, far away from his home with Shiro on the Harborage. He wasn’t prepared.

“Well, I’ll grab you some clothes to sleep in. Can’t imagine that suit’s very comfortable. And I have an _excellent_ imagination,” Lance said with a proud smirk. Keith glanced down at himself and grimaced. Another very good reason not to sleep.

Keith attempted to wave Lance down. “That’s really okay. I don’t want to get your clothes dirty. I’ll just stay in my suit until Shiro comes.” Lance looked back at him, brow knit incredulously.

“Look, we’re going to figure out where Shiro landed, okay? I’m gonna help you. But when we find him, I bet you’d rather not be a sleep-deprived zombie, amiright?”

“It’s not that…” Keith looked away to his right, eyes searching up to the ceiling. Guess there was no working around it. Keith sighed. “I’ve… been wearing the suit for the past three quintants.”

Lance frowned, shaking his head. “Okaaaay…” Then his gaze flickered and Keith gave a humorless smile. _There it is._ “Oh. _Ohhh_. Yeah, sure, man, I have a shower you can use to clean up. Come on, I’ll show you.” 

Keith let himself be led through the bedroom door to the back of the house. Lance grabbed a towel from the linens above the hatch before proceeding to the shower room. He flicked on the light and indicated a white enclosed area to the left. 

“Shower’s here. That knob pulls out to start the water, red is hotter, blue is colder. Turn it whichever way you need. Then if you pull up on this thing here, it’ll turn into a shower.” Lance pointed out everything, and Keith nodded or hummed to confirm he was listening. He explained the shampoo and conditioner to Keith--exact quantities and how many ticks to leave the conditioner in before rinsing--and how to use the loofah with the strawberry body wash. “Let me grab those clothes while you get out of the armor.”

Keith pulled off the gauntlets first, then the graves on his legs before Lance brought in a stack of clothing--which he slipped under the towel--and excused himself, assuring Keith he was a shout away should he need something. Keith peeled off his suit, careful of his rib cage and clavicle. In the large mirror he could see a few leftover bruises from re-entry. They were light, though, mostly faded and healing nicely. He cast off his undersuit and stepped inside the shower.

But seriously, what the ruggle was he doing here? It’s not like he had any choice but to stay. And Lance _had_ given the correct Countersign, even if it was half a varga late. He definitely needed to ask Lance about his mom and that saying she’d given him about the casita. But Keith felt stifled here, trapped. He wanted to get moving, to actually _do something_ to find Shiro. 

Keith stepped into the shower and took a few ticks to bask in the warmth. Sighing, he raked his hands through his hair beneath the stream. Maybe it was just prolonging the inevitable, but the shower was a welcome distraction. He followed all of Lance’s instructions down to the tick, focusing on the soap and water and pushing away all other thought. But that black heat in his gut grew despite his efforts to breathe and relax, frustration pressing in with each scrub of his hair or face. 

No, this wasn’t the same as being trapped; Keith could chose to walk out that door at any moment… he’d just have nowhere to go. That thought was a different brand of hopelessness all its own. Keith squeezed his eyes shut and dunked his face into the stream of warm water. He just needed to get through this shower, get some sleep, and he could figure it all out tomorrow.

_Sleep? **Here?**_

He was lathering up the loofa with the the sickly sweet smell of whatever ‘strawberry’ was when his emotions tipped over and he frantically reached out, glass lights shattering and plunging him into darkness. 

_Quiznak._

 

\---------------

 

Okay, so this was all totally fine. Shirogane--his hero since he started at the Garrison--was nowhere to be found, and the mysterious crashed-alien-Coalition-operative-named-Keith was staying overnight. And showering in his bathroom. Six steps from him. 

_Nope. Definitely not thinking about that._

Lance shook his head, and focused himself on folding the laundry he’d left in the basket at the foot of his bed. Normally he’d just pick through the basket until he needed to do laundry again, but he honestly couldn’t think of anything better to do. Sitting still was hard enough without thinking about Shirogane and the Coalition and the naked operative in his shower. 

With a frustrated sigh, Lance snatched a plain gray baseball tee from the overturned basket occupying his bed and furiously set to work untangling its arms. Moreh sauntered through the door and jumped up on the bed in front of him, staring Lance down with a cocked head as he fought the uncooperative shirt. 

“Don’t even start with me, kid,” he griped at Moreh’s piercing gaze. “I’m totally fine. Cool as a cucumber.” 

A sudden popping noise, muffled by the door, echoed from the bathroom. Lance looked up with squinted eyes as the barest tinkling of glass dwindled, the shower’s steady stream the only sound remaining within. A single glance at the door frame confirmed that the lights were off. Lance jumped from the bed and opened the door--a little too forcefully, slamming it against the wall. 

“Ay carajo!” The room was pitch black, the light from his bedroom all that illuminated the darkened bathroom.

“Wait!” Keith called. “Don’t come in!” 

“What?” Lance asked, pausing to flick the light a few times, to no result. Then, leaning forward to peer deeper into the room, Lance saw the light from his side table glint off a collection of broken glass littering the ground. 

“I get it, the lights exploded. _All_ of them,” Lance grumbled. Seriously? _Again_ with this? Maybe letting this mysterious operative stay with him was a bad idea, after all. How the cheese had he broken so much in so little time? “Listen, I’m gonna leave the door open so you have some light. I’ll be right back.”

Spying Moreh lazily napping on the safety of his bed, Lance trudged into the kitchen. He grabbed the broom from its place beside the back door and returned to the room, grabbing his phone off the charging pad on his side table. He clicked through to his flashlight app, choosing a setting for lantern and strode back into the bathroom. 

Cautiously brushing away some bulb fragments with the side of his hand, Lance placed his phone on the countertop and set to work. 

“Can you see alright?” he asked, hoisting the broom onto the countertop and knocking the handle into the ceiling. He readjusted the angle and started sweeping the contents off the counter into the dustpan, a few specks missing and landing on the linoleum floor. 

“Uh… Yeah, it’s fine,” Keith replied.

“I’m sorry about this. Just a little… technical difficulty. I’ll get it taken care of.” He finished sweeping the fragments from the counter and moved to the toilet. “Ugh, what the crow? How did it get on your clothes?” He knew the answer, but that didn’t make it less annoying. He carefully tipped the contents into the trash and set his broom down, dustpan resting on the counter, considering his next move. 

“I…” Keith began, but seemed not to have a follow-up and just trailed off into the sounds of water. That’s when Lance made the mistake of looking back at the shower, catching a lean but muscular silhouette through the curtain and whipping his head away immediately. 

_Don’t look. Don’t think. Don’t look. Don’t think._

It was no use. The silhouette was burned into his mind’s eye, the smell of strawberry body wash gently wafting through the bathroom among the steam and setting off his impressive imagination. He couldn’t shake the image, no matter how much he tried to conjure up thoughts of his mom in a bathing suit. Lance carefully turned his attention to the glass on the floor and was surprised when the water turned off, still in the act of sweeping a collection of smaller fragments onto the dustpan. 

“Hold on, Keith, I’ve almost cleared a path for you.”

“It’s fine. I can wait,” Keith spoke, his voice zinging through Lance as it hit just the right resonance of the shower stall. Lance shivered and tried get a hold of himself, focusing on something in Keith’s voice, a small tremor that sounded… wrong. 

Lance sighed to himself, sweeping the contents into the trash. “You okay, man?” 

“I’m fine,” Keith replied, way too soon in Lance’s opinion. 

“Listen. I know this is all kinda… I dunno, _a lot_ ,” Lance said, shoving the rug away from the shower stall with a sock-protected foot and shaking the folded towel to dislodge any fragments into the trash can. Once he’d brushed hesitantly over its surface to ensure there was nothing still attached, he pushed it through the space between the curtain and the back of the stall. Staring off at the corner of the ceiling, Lance’s breath caught as Keith pulled the towel from his hand, fingers brushing his. _Breathe, Lance._ “Everything’s gonna work out, though.”

A moment later, Keith drew back the curtain and Lance tried--and probably failed--to keep his face passive as he stepped hesitantly out onto the freshly swept floor, white towel tied around his waist. 

_Holy cheese._

_His eyes are up_ there, _Lance._

Keith used one hand to brush his wet locks from his face and gazed up at Lance with… wait, were this guy’s eyes actually _purple?!_ Oh, he was done for. This guy was going to be the death of him.

“Thanks,” Keith said, dropping his eyes to the floor. That look snapped Lance out of it pretty quickly. Now wasn’t the time to be checking the guy out. This was serious. 

“It’s gonna be okay, man. Why don’t you sit on the bed for a minute and I’ll make sure your clothes don’t have glass on them?” 

Lance pulled his gaze to the clothes on the counter, whisking the loose shirt off the surface to shake gently over the trash can, following with the gray pajama bottoms and boxer briefs he’d selected. Certain everything would pass muster, Lance took a deep breath to steel himself and stepped back into the room.

Leaning against the side of his bed, Keith looked up when Lance entered, his purple eyes drawing up from the floor where they’d apparently been studying a small catch in the carpet Moreh had been so kind as to claw. Lance frowned as he cautiously stepped forward and handed the bundle of clothing to Keith, who simply nodded in reply. 

“Just call me when you’re finished changing,” Lance said, stepping out of the bedroom and closing the door behind him. Moreh walked to the door behind him, huffing indignantly when it closed in her face. Lance opened the door a crack and she shifted through. “Sorry, beautiful,” Lance cooed, reaching down to scoop her up, cradling her like a baby in both arms. He pressed the back of his index finger across the flat of her head and watched as her blue eyes squinted shut in contentment. “You know I’d never leave you, baby. But you probably need to stay out here for a bit. Can’t get glass on those adorable toes.”

“Uh… Lance?” came a muted call. Lance opened the door with Moreh still in his arms. He caught Keith’s eyes at once, standing at the door, face questioning as he stood in pants just an inch or so too long, and a long sleeved blue baseball tee flopping over his hands. He looked… kinda like a normal human. Weird. 

“Hey. Just getting the cat situated. Can’t have her running around while I’m cleaning the rest of the floor.”

“Well… I mean, I could hold her for a bit.” Keith’s face was passive, purple eyes bright as they locked with Lance’s. A really attractive normal human.

Lance blinked. “Seriously?” A wicked smirk tugged at the corner of his lip. “I don’t know, man, maybe we should just _ask_ Moreh not to go in the bathroom. I’m sure we can reason with her. Moreh, what do you say? You gonna stay on the bed? Maybe you could help us clean? If there’s anyone who knows proper procedure to clean up--”

“There’s a very similar species on Altea!” Keith insisted, his voice raising in pitch and volume for the first time since Lance met him, clear frustration in his tone. “They can talk in their heads! How was I supposed to know Earth ones aren’t telepathic?”

Lance grinned and held back a chuckle. “Well, it’s good to know the great Coalition operative can get flustered, at least. Here.” Lance held Moreh out to Keith, who grasped at the gray form awkwardly at first before settling in and cradling her as Lance had. “Scratch her head,” Lance instructed, and Keith shifted his arms to scratch the very top of her head, and Moreh gratefully readjusted her position when she wanted ear scratches. “There, man, you got it.” 

Reluctantly, Lance turned away from the sight. If he was being honest, he probably couldn’t handle much more of that view before he burst, anyway. He re-entered the bathroom and re-swept the counter and floor, then grabbed the rug and took it out the back door. That was tomorrow Lance’s problem. Soon the glass was safely disposed of and Lance stepped up to the bed, settling down beside Keith and massaging fingers between Moreh’s pink squish beans. Keith looked up hesitantly.

“So, you gonna tell me why all my glass keeps shattering around you?” Lance asked, bravely locking his gaze with those captivating eyes. Pausing his stroke along the back of Moreh’s neck, Keith looked up at Lance, pursing his lips and opening them to take a breath.

“It’s… kind of a top priority secret for the Alteans,” Keith said, looking torn, “and I’m not sure I should be talking to anyone about it.”

“Look, guy, if you’ve brought some kind of weapon or crazy alien tech into my home, I need to know. Am I putting myself in danger? My cat?!” Lance cried. “I mean, I don’t wanna get hurt either, but if Moreh gets hurt, I swear--”

“I would never hurt her!” Keith shouted, then blinked, frustration pouring off his face and leaving shock in its place. Lance was certain his face held a fair amount of surprise himself.

“Did you just say _you_ wouldn’t hurt her?” Lance asked.

Keith frowned, pursing his lips in a way that was quickly becoming all too familiar. “I… did say that.”

“ _You_ used the tech, then…?”

“Not exactly.”

“You didn’t use it, or it’s not tech?”

“It’s… it’s not tech.” Keith shifted uncomfortably.

“So… _you’re_ the one that broke that cup? And the lights? Like, _on purpose?_ ” Lance’s mouth hung open as he stared in disbelief. Keith was more dangerous then he’d thought.

“Well,” Keith began, and his mouth worked to shape words that never followed. Once he finally closed his mouth in defeat, Lance shook his head with a humorless laugh. Dangerous and a man of few words, apparently.

“I should’ve figured. You apologized for that glass right off the bat.” He sighed and leaned back on his hands on the bed as Keith continued to stroke Moreh from crown to shoulder blades. “Seriously, letting some real life X-Men Gambit into my house, blowing up all my stuff…” Lance took a deep breath then looked straight at Keith. “So, it’s only dangerous to glass?”

“Well… not exactly,” Keith admitted sheepishly. “But when I lose control, glass is easy to resonate. It releases some of the... _energy_. It’s usually the least destructive thing I can find.”

Lance scoffed, “Tell that to my bathroom.”

“Well, let me show you what metal looks like sometime,” Keith replied, shooting Lance a sobering gaze.

“Holy shit, dude, you can blow up metal?! Like, with your _mind_?” Lance wiggled his fingers to mimic psychic waves.

“Lance,” Keith warned. 

“What? I just found out you’ve got an actual legit _superpower_. I’m just curious.”

“What I can do is pretty dangerous,” Keith said. “And I’m normally in more control, but since escaping the Galra I’ve had some trouble getting on top of it.”

Lance’s eyes widened. “Wait, _that’s_ why you and Shiro came to Earth? You were running from the _Galra_?” Keith gave a single nod. “I guess that makes sense. I mean, we haven’t had any contact with the Galra since the Phoenix Lights incident. They barely know we’re here. Pretty good place to hide out.”

“I thought the people didn’t know the Galra and Alteans came to Earth before.”

“Well, my mom told me about it. She was a kid when the lights came through town.”

“Wait… the landing was _here_? Right here?” Moreh started with Keith’s cry and squirmed out of his arms, hopping off the bed and trotting over to the bathroom to explore.

“Here-ish, yeah. The Garrison was only established here because of what happened back in ninety-seven. And there’s all sorts of rumors and conspiracy theories.” Lance shifted himself up on the bed further, crossing his legs to face Keith. “Like, I remember asking her when I was little if she thought they were really just flares like the government said. She told me, ‘Of course, they were. But why did they _drop_ the flares?’”

Keith pulled himself up on the bed, sitting cross-legged across from Lance. “Sounds like she has first-hand knowledge.”

“It’s all still classified, of course. She couldn’t tell me much of anything until I was at the Garrison. And even now, I’m not cleared for much. But yeah, she knows about the Galra and Alteans landing here.”

“Did she…” Keith began, leaning forward ever so slightly and violet eyes filled Lance’s vision, “Did she interact with them?”

Lance swallowed, drawing back slightly. This guy… “Look, most people at the Garrison still don’t even know what went down. I only got the extra clearance because my mom was part of the Garrison from before it even opened.” Lance smiled as he thought of his mami and her stunning career. “But my hunch is, yeah. My mom’s a total badass.”

“I’d love to talk to her about that sometime,” Keith said. “I mean, if that’s possible.”

“Well, it’s gonna be hard. She’s stationed offworld and all my communications go through the Garrison.” Lance’s face fell for a moment before he plastered a reassuring smile in place. “Let’s just focus on reuniting you and Shirogane.” 

“Alright.” A soft smile barely lifted Keith’s lips and Lance almost melted at the sight.

 _Keep it together._ “Besides, it’s a little soon to bring you home to meet my mom, right?” Lance laughed. _That isn’t keeping it together._

Keith blinked. “Why?” It was genuine curiosity.

Cheeks coloring, Lance scratched nervously at his neck, “It’s nothing. It was supposed to be a joke.”

“Oh,” Keith replied. “What does the joke mean?”

“You know,” Lance circled his hands, as if that was enough of an answer. He sighed and slumped forward. “It wasn’t really a good joke. I promise I’ll explain the next one, okay?”

“Sure,” Keith shrugged, and Lance took the opportunity to slide off the bed. 

“Let’s get you set up. My couch is a little small, but it’s surprisingly comfy.”

 

\---------------

 

Keith let his head sink weightily into the pillow, fatigue tugging at his eyelids. He sighed and tried to focus on what Lance said about his mother. 

She had interacted with the landing parties, presumably the Alteans but perhaps both. The Alteans landed near here. His mother worked for the Coalition now. And this casita was meant to be a ‘shelter from the storm’. 

Keith really had no choice but to trust Lance after that conversation, even if it didn’t seem like Lance understood the full importance of his words. He had no doubt that Lance’s mother was his real contact. And knowing the importance of this safehouse, she had entrusted Lance with the codeword in her absence. Lance was safe, he was sure of that now. Things were definitely complicated by his mother being stationed offworld, but at least Keith could confirm he was clearly in the right place.

So where was Shiro?

Keith scrunched his brow together, working through his breathing exercises, counting off as he breathed in through his nose, held his breath, and released it with a hiss around his tongue. Everything was fine. There was no point worrying tonight. He exhaled another breath. He just had to sleep. Inhale. Just make it until tomorrow. Hold. Just a few more hours until daylight. Exhale. Maybe the scream trapped in his throat wouldn’t ache so terribly in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For realskies. May 15th. Chapter 3 will be posted. I promise.
> 
> THANK YOU FOR READING!! I love comments, so send them my way! 
> 
> Check out art by my collaborator [biitterbatter on Tumblr!](http://biitterbatter.tumblr.com/) His artwork for this chapter can be found [on Tumblr here](http://biitterbatter.tumblr.com/post/173875200178/i-keith-began-but-seemed-not-to-have-a).
> 
> Beta angel GlassAlice's help has been invaluable. So go [follow GlassAlice on Tumblr!](http://yuzuling.tumblr.com/)


	3. Freebie Friday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance enlists Pidge's help in the search for Shiro. Keith gets bored at Lance's house and discovers television.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HA! I told you I could get it out on Tuesday!!!
> 
> Seriously, I hope you enjoy Chapter 3!

Lance thought he heard something in the night--a popping sound?--but he couldn’t place it. Even his sleep-addled brain managed to grumble at him that he had classes in the morning. In the end he went right back to the comfort of his pillow.

In the light of day, the popping sound made more sense.

“Man, do I need to get rid of all the glass in my apartment?” Lance asked, carefully scraping a mix of thick green glass fragments and a pool of olive oil off the kitchen counter and into the trash with the aid of a handful of paper towels. “I was gonna do a scrub tonight, too.”

“I’m sorry,” Keith said miserably. “I can help you clean it up--”

“No,” Lance replied placing himself between Keith and the mess, “no, no. You’re not even wearing shoes. And besides, you’re a guest.”

“But it’s my fault that--”

“Ap pa pa, slow down, there, mister,” Lance said, pushing Keith away with his left hand. “I’m gonna get rid of the glass. If I haven’t gotten all the oil cleaned by the time I leave, then you are welcome to give it a shot.”

“By the time you leave?”

“Yeah,” Lance sighed, spinning back to the counter and plucking a the large fragment of bottle from the surface of the counter, still sitting nicely where he’d left it, with a pool of olive oil in its base. What a waste. “I’ve got one more day of classes today, and I can’t miss or they’ll get suspicious. You should lay low, here.”

“Just... _wait here_?” Keith asked.

“Yup. Clearly you look like a man of action, but...” Lance paused eyes flicking over Keith in his oversized pajamas and he couldn’t quite hide his smirk. “I mean, not right now you don’t.” Keith looked down at his outfit and flushed, practically pouting. “Anyway, going outside? Not an option. I’m looking into Shiro’s crash today, alright? After the first crash, I’m sure the Garrison wants to keep things under wraps. Anyway, stay indoors until I get back. Check the news. I’ll set up the computer so we can chat if you need anything. Wait, how well do you read English?” 

Keith cocked his head and shot Lance an unamused stare. “Seriously?”

“What? I’m just asking. You’re the one who said you’d never been to Earth.”

“I work with Shiro, moron.”

“So you know some English insults, that’s pretty good.”

“Ass,” Keith muttered and Lance chuckled.

“Lots of English insults. I get it, you’re good. I’ll set it up. If you hear anything on the news, let me know. I’ll show you the remote before I go. And I’ll let you know if I have any news from my friends.”

Lance rushed through his daily routine, collecting his books and rushing out the door. He barely had time to walk Keith through the electronics. But the chat was open and the sound was turned up enough that Keith could hear his alerts. Lance half jogged out the door, pulling his phone out to message Keith more instructions and nearly collided with a man in light linen trousers and blue collared shirt, suit jacket draped over his left arm.

“Morning, Lance,” the man said, pulling his keys out of his bag. He shot Lance an apologetic look. “We’re actually having some trouble with the water pressure in the upstairs bathroom.”

“Of course, Mr. Nazaryan,” Lance said, nodding and speeding toward the road. “I’ll take a look as soon as I get home!”

“Hey, any word about the man the police were after?” Lance froze, plastered a smile and turned back up the driveway. 

“You know, I was a bit confused about that myself.”

“You didn’t hear anything at the training facility?”

“I went home early,” Lance replied, slipping his phone into his pocket. Keith’s instructions would have to wait.

“It’s just so shocking. You don’t think we’re in any danger, do you? You’d tell us if you heard something, right?”

“Of course I would!” Lance lied with an easy smile. “But I really think you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Well, there was talk of… a crash.”

“Probably just a test flight. I don’t think the two are related. I hear the seniors were about to get some practical hours in.”

“Well, you know what they’re saying on the news.”

“Yeah, impact trajectory was a little strange, but that’s normal for the kind of skiffs they use. Here’s hoping we don’t turn into the next Roswell, amiright?” Lance joked, and gratefully Mr. Nazaryan grinned. 

“I think we have enough trouble with the Snowbirds already,” he agreed. “Don’t think the roads could take a bunch of conspiracy nuts, too. Well, I should let you go.”

“See you this afternoon!” Lance shouted, settling into a jog. Lance pulled out his phone, half looking as he crossed minor intersections, finally able to message Keith. He finished the instructions as he approached the bus stop. He looked up, spying the tiny form of a bespectacled teen sitting on the bench, engrossed in something on a datapad, settled on a pair of standard issue Garrison slacks in the traditional orange. “Hey, Pidge,” he said as he breathlessly dropped to one side. 

“You’re early,” Pidge said, quirking one eyebrow and shooting Lance a look. “Trying to get back on Iverson’s good side?”

“I don’t think showing up on time is going to get me in that guy’s good graces.”

“‘That guy’, huh? Is that any way to describe a superior officer?”

“Oh, he’s definitely an officer. Not so sure he’s a superior one.”

“Oho ho hooo,” Pidge laughed, thin lips curling into a smile. “Looks like someone’s still a little pissed about yesterday.”

“Whatever, he was out of line,” Lance pouted.

“No argument here,” Pidge said, turning back to the datapad. “I’ve got family in the Coalition, too. No one’s ever suggested I got here for any reason but my own abilities. But then again, I’m not from Cuba.” 

“That’s not what the Coalition’s about!” Lance shouted, jumping from the bench and facing Pidge’s passive face. “We’re supposed to all be equals. We’re all unique but totally accepting of other races, cultures, _everything_! Like, get over yourself, right?”

“You should probably sit back down before you freak someone out with your yelling,” Pidge advised, and Lance dropped back onto the plastic-covered mesh patterned bench with a irritated grunt. “And I know I’m probably talking to a wall, but I’m gonna remind you for the twelve thousand, three hundred and forty- _eighth_ time that the Coalition is not the Federation.”

“Yeah, but it could be,” Lance insisted, pulling out his phone to check a ding. New message from Keith, confirming the instructions and updating that there was no news about a second crash. “So, I know we talked about the crash yesterday.”

“I remember,” Pidge said. “But I swear, our instructors didn’t say anything.”

“I know. But maybe they’d have something on the computers?”

“Lance…”

“Come on, Pidge,” Lance pleaded. “I know I’m asking a lot, but this is important to me. Isn’t there anything you can do?”

“Why do you even care? It was just some satellite crash or a drunk senior.”

“Yeah, well, if my mom had just accepted what the official reports were saying--”

“Oh, here we go,” Pidge groaned.

“--then she wouldn’t be an envoy to the Tandalujan homeworld today. We gotta take the risk.”

“‘Boldly go’?” Pidge offered with a knowing look, eyebrow quirked.

Lance looked away innocently. “I didn’t say those words. Those words never left my lips.”

“Mm hmm. Sure.” Pidge looked him over. “So you really think this is more than a satellite or a meteorite or a shitty senior prank?”

“It could be.” 

Pidge’s eyes narrowed. “What do you know that I don’t?”

“What are you talking about?” Lance asked, scoffing but unable to hold Pidge’s gaze. “I don’t have any extra information on this. I wasn’t even there yesterday. I know less than you.”

“Yeah...” Pidge squished a cheek to one side. “I’m not buyin’ it.”

“What? I’m telling the truth.”

“And yet you look super guilty. Your ‘I didn’t crash the simulator program, I was in the gym even though nobody saw me’ kind of guilty.”

“I resent that. I work out just as much as the next guy.”

“Only if the next guy is Hunk.”

“Hey! It’s one thing to insult me, but Hunk? Really, Pidge?”

“What? I’m no better. We’re not exactly known for our ninjutsu, dude. Just bein’ honest.”

“Look, I just… I have a hunch, so...” Lance began with a sigh. “You know that freebie you owe me?”

Pidge coughed a laugh. “You’re using your freebie on _this_? You don’t get another until next year.”

“I know.”

“Holy crow…” Pidge shrugged. “Alright. No questions asked, that’s the deal. But I can’t do it until this weekend. How careful do you want me to be?”

“Uh… I guess you should always air on the side of ‘the Garrison is super paranoid about unauthorized entry’.”

“Pretty careful, then. Relax, I won’t get caught.” A smirk coated Pidge’s features. “Especially since this is clearly so very important to you.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say it’s ‘important to me’. I’m just a little curious.”

“You literally _did_ say it was important to you, though. Like, two minutes ago.”

They fell into a comfortable banter the rest of the bus ride, and Lance was grateful to push away the anxious bubble all these unknown factors were placing in his middle. If there was anything to find, Pidge would get a hold of it. Now to figure out what to do with the dark-haired alien sleeping on his couch.

 

\---------------

 

Lance had forgotten to make something to eat for Keith before he left, and unfortunately Keith didn’t exactly have the culinary expertise necessary to fend for himself in Lance’s kitchen. He didn’t even know what kind of foods they were. 

He messaged Lance through the system, carefully choosing his words and painstakingly keying in each letter into the unfamiliar system. It was nearly twenty doboshes before Lance responded, apologizing and telling him where to find some grapes and bread, and promising him pizza when he returned. ‘Pizza’ Keith actually had heard of, and he was excited to see if he liked it as well as Shiro did. 

Having decided to wait out the day here was frustrating, but at least he was safe for now. He checked the news on a few stations to no result. After a few vargas of toggling between the computer and the television, Keith opted to walk around a bit. Moreh stretched from her place on the back of the couch and hopped to the floor, wandering with Keith at his heel.

Keith puttered between the rooms of the small house, exploring all the nooks and crannies he could find. It wasn’t a large space; he could walk the length of the casita in a matter of ticks. But despite its small space, Keith found lots to occupy him. The first curiosity that caught his attention were the paper placards that adorned the walls of Lance’s bedroom. They all sported humans and what appeared to be non-human races brightly-dressed in solid colors. Moreh hopped up onto Lance’s bed as he read, dropping into a bored nap almost immediately. 

“That was fast,” Keith remarked as he carefully examined each banner, reading the finely printed lettering at the bottom of a particular poster that struck his fancy. It took him longer than he cared to admit before he realized that the collection of words were actually names, probably of the people depicted above. Reading English wasn’t as easy for him as he’d lead Lance to believe. After all, he and Shiro almost exclusively communicated verbally, and all the computer systems they used were in Altean. Not that he’d give Lance the satisfaction of knowing Keith only read at the level of a small child.

The next curiosity was a collection of figurines, some clearly mirroring the spaceships depicted on the banners, perched on dressers and in bookshelf nooks. Atop the dresser, he found four unique puzzle cubes--one of which he accidentally knocked apart and had to find a way to rearrange the wooden pieces to fit them together again. After he’d accomplished the task, he realized with some satisfaction that it was probably the object of the game. Having won, Keith smiled and plucked a colored puzzle cube from its surface, determined to fix it as he continued around the house. Moreh hopped up to follow him into the closet.

He brushed a hand against a row of clothing in the closet, standing on his tiptoes but failing to get his eyes high enough to see the high shelf. Moreh trilled at him, so he abandoned his nosiness and lead the gray cat out of the bedroom. In the kitchen, he took a break from shamelessly spying on his host and spent some time scrubbing the counter and floor until the slick coating of oil was completely gone, and did his best to wash the plates Lance had left in the sink the previous night. It was the least he could do for Lance’s hospitality. And for letting his curiosity get so much the better of him that he’d spent a good varga going through all of Lance’s stuff. Keith dried his hands, filled a glass of water, and returned to the couch room adjacent the kitchen.

Plopping down in front of the TV, Keith selected the remote and turned on the news yet again. Lance had briefly given him a list of news stations he could check for any updates on the crash. It was possible the media here could shed some light on what had happened to Shiro. He flicked through a few, ultimately staying on channel twelve and watching uselessly for another half a varga. He learned nothing of value--unless you thought the recipe for a spring salad was vital information, or that a local girl was rescued from a fire by her family dog, who returned to the building to successfully rescue her five puppies.

Keith sighed, but kept the frustration inside, choosing to slam the remote into the couch instead. Shiro had his version of coping methods, but Antok taught Keith quite a different technique. According to Antok, sometimes you just had to hit something. 

It felt pretty good.

But the couch cushions smashed into a few buttons on the remote, causing the television channel to flick over to something unfamiliar. There was now a dark-haired man on screen, talking very closely to a woman about the reasons why he needed to fake his own death. The woman answered breathlessly about her faith in the man, and how she had planted the evidence on his step-brother necessary to exonerate him. Then they started passionately kissing in what Keith assumed was a medical room of some kind.

Keith’s lips shrugged and he settled back into the couch. It was definitely better than reading all Lance’s posters a third time. Moreh hopped into Keith’s lap and he scratched her neck, relaxing into the monotony of daytime television.

 

\---------------

 

His Oscillation and Waveform Physics class had a quiz that Lance was mostly prepared for, even if he missed yesterday and forgot to study in light of the alien intruder he was housing. Lance shut off his tablet and headed to the galley for lunch, picking up some truly substandard cafeteria food that put MREs to shame. 

Tray in tow, he walked out into the courtyard. It was still early enough in the year that sitting outside was almost bearable, especially if you weren't in direct sunlight. He curved around the outer wall of the cafeteria and found a shaded table, populated only by a large young man with dark brown hair. Lance placed his tray on the blue plastic that covered the thick mesh of the table and benches, presumably to prevent them from heating up in the sunlight. It only sort of worked, the bench hot against Lance’s thighs through his slacks as he sat. 

“Hey, Hunk,” Lance said, readjusting his slacks against the hot seat. The brown-haired boy looked up from his tablet with a smile. 

“Hey, buddy. We didn’t get to talk earlier. You were acting a little weird last night. You sure you got home alright?”

Lance shrugged. “Of course, man. I’m here, aren’t I?”

“I just mean…” Hunk trailed off, head swiveling in every direction before he leaned a little closer to Lance across the table. “Don’t tell anyone I said this but… you know I overheard some of the MPs when I was leaving the supercomputer lab last night.”

“Overheard them say what?”

“That apparently they were looking for someone.” His brown eyes widened slightly in worry. “I don’t think it was space junk, man. I think someone _crash landed_. And they’re on the loose.”

“So... what? You think those conspiracy theories are right?”

“It makes sense. I know what I heard. You have to be careful.”

“Why me?”

“Because they were looking in your neighborhood.” 

Lance froze, but tried desperately to pull his face into some semblance of normalcy. His smile was usually this big, right? His eyes weren’t this wide, though, right? Better. _Just a relax. Everything’s fine. Don’t freak out, Lance._

“Look, I’m sure it’s safe, Hunk. The casita’s kinda hard to spot unless you know it’s there.” Wow, he was getting _really_ good at this lying and telling the truth at the same time thing. Lance grimaced as he realized that probably wasn’t a good thing. “Anyway, you don’t have to worry about me.”

Lance pulled out his phone and sent a message to Keith. He needed to have that hatch in the closet ready. Maybe get his flight suit down there out of sight. Just in case. 

“Hey guys,” Pidge said, startling Lance and settling in beside him. “So what’s up?”

“Lance isn’t taking my warning seriously,” Hunk pouted into his truly pathetic macaroni and cheese--an insult to mac and cheese everywhere. 

“What warning?” Pidge asked, shoveling half a chicken strip into an implausibly small mouth in one bite. Hunk’s eyes flitted back and forth, scanning the area around them once more. 

“I overheard the MPs talking about the crash. Someone was seen in Lance’s neighborhood afterward.”

“Interesting,” Pidge said, polishing off the rest of the chicken strip and moving to scoop the mac and cheese forgery. 

“No it isn’t,” Lance said. Too quickly. _Waaay_ too quickly. “I mean, it’s probably nothing. You’re both overreacting.”

“Why is Lance acting weird?” Hunk asked Pidge.

“I dunno, Hunk,” Pidge responded, eyes flitting up to Hunk with a meaningful glance, “but he used his freebie.”

“Really? Interesting...” 

“It’s not interesting!” Lance practically shouted, but Hunk ignored him.

“He was saving that to have you unlock all the hidden films on his Netflix queue.”

“That actually would have been more fun. And a lot less work.”

“What’s he got you doing?”

“Sorry, Hunk. Rules of the freebie.”

Lance sighed, “You both remember I’m still here, right?”

“Oh, we remember,” Pidge offered. “But it doesn’t seem like you’re really saying anything anyway.”

Hunk shook his head. “Lance, if I find out you’re hiding something important,” he warned, “I’m going to make a batch of your favorite cupcakes and give them to Pidge to eat in front of you.”

“I swear it’s nothing!” Lance said, silently praying Hunk was bluffing. He didn’t think he could take it. 

“So there is an ‘it’ then?” Hunk’s voice raised unnaturally. “Or how could ‘it’ be nothing?”

“This is crazy. Can we talk about something else?”

“Fine, no more freebie talk,” Hunk said. “But come on, man. You know you can trust me. Just… you can tell me anything.”

“I know that, buddy,” Lance said, fake smile definitely not coming out right. Lying to Hunk’s face was the moral equivalent of kicking a puppy, and Lance didn’t like it one bit. 

Reluctantly, the trio shrugged off the conversation, but Hunk still watched Lance with concern. They finally left the table--Hunk catching Lance to warn him to double lock his doors and to keep his phone close if he needed anything.

The rest of the school day went smoothly, especially Advanced Tech systems. With the help of his two genius classmates Lance was able to pull a solid A minus on his quarterly final. It was mostly their tutelage, but he allowed himself a small slice of pride for pulling it off. 

Pidge wasn’t there for the afternoon bus. He sent a quick message, but didn’t get a response until he was halfway home, saying Pidge had gotten started on his freebie, but needed access to the campus computers briefly. He sent a thank you text and messaged Keith to let him know he was almost back to the house. 

It wasn’t until he was walking up the driveway that he remembered Mr. Nazaryan's plea for help with the pipes. Lance sighed and went around back. He’d have to drop off his stuff first and explain everything to Keith before he checked out the water pressure upstairs. Lance pulled out his keys and walked the stepping stones to his door. He heard the television through the door as he turned the key, some clamor like people yelling. It sounded suspiciously like... _Oh no_.

Lance burst through the door, head whipping between Keith on the couch--still wearing the too-big pajamas Lance had given him last night--and the television, playing an old Judge Judy rerun. 

“Hi, Lance,” Keith said, sitting up and alert. He’d probably freaked the guy out throwing open the door like that, but that wasn’t anywhere near his top priority right now.

“Please tell me you haven’t been watching this all day!” Lance cried, turning to close the door and taking a steadying breath before turning back to Keith and crossing the distance between them. Keith furrowed his brow.

“Of course not,” he replied, settling further into the couch as Lance took the remote from him and muted the television. He settled himself in the spot to Keith’s right, left knee up on the couch cushion so he could face his alien visitor. Then Keith said the worst thing imaginable, “the programs change pretty frequently.”

Lance dropped his chin to his chest with a heavy sigh. “Your first day on Earth, and you spent it watching an entire day of daytime television?”

“You’re the one who insisted I stay indoors,” Keith said testily. 

“Yeah, but now your first exposure to our entertainment industry will always be _daytime television_. I can’t take that back.”

“Is it really that big of a deal?” Keith asked.

“Well, what exactly did you watch?”

“The first program was news, only they had recipes and--”

“Yeah, morning news shows are basically fluff pieces. Occasionally they have real news. Then what?”

“A hospital show.”

“Hospi-- Yeah, it wouldn’t happen to have a lot of kissing, would it?” Keith considered, shrugged his head to the side, and nodded. “Dammit. And then?”

“Another kissing program, and then one with a lot of yelling on a stage.”

Lance sighed heavily. “And then court TV?”

“I think that’s right, yeah.”

“Keith,” Lance said, reaching out both hands to grasp Keith’s shoulders and taking a deep, steadying breath, “do you have any concept of how badly I’ve failed you?”

“I didn’t know it was a problem. Sorry. I would’ve found something else to do.”

“No, Keith. Don’t blame yourself. This one’s on me. I forgot to make you food this morning, get you a fresh change of clothes, and now subjected you to the dregs of the entertainment industry. I’m the worst ambassador to the human race of all time. But don’t worry. I can fix this.”

Lance reached out to place the remote on the coffee table, and grabbed the Rubik’s cube off the table instead. 

“Sorry,” Keith began, voice breathless with speed. “I know it was in your room, but I--”

“No, it’s fine. The place is tiny. You’re welcome wherever,” Lance said, squinting his eyes and turning the cube over in his hand to consider it from different angles. “Did… did you solve it?”

“It took most of the afternoon to figure out the last level,” Keith admitted. “I kept messing up the other layers.” 

“So you were working on this the whole time you were watching?” Lance said flicking the cube in his wrist once for emphasis. 

“Yeah.” Lance smiled at that, biting the inside of his lip as he looked at Keith’s earnest face, brows scrunched in concern as his violet eyes flicked over Lance’s face. “Is that okay?”

“Well, at least the day wasn’t a complete waste.” He gripped the cube with both hands and started making turns. Right, Front, Up inverted, moving through them as he spoke, “Look, I’ve gotta go to the main house and help them fix the water. While I’m gone, you’re gonna watch some actual _good_ television, okay? I’ve gotta be a better host.” Lance handed Keith the cube. “Start on the orange side, okay?” 

“Sure.” Keith nodded as Lance lifted the remote from his lap, switching over to Hulu and pulling up the first episode of Steven Universe. “But I think you’ve been a good host.”

Lance briefly forgot what he was doing, drawing back to the moment with a few blinks in rapid succession. “I’m glad,” he said lamely, then cleared his throat. “Uh… so the episodes are numbered. If it doesn’t autoplay, push this button to go to the next one. Do _not_ change the channel. If something goes wrong, just turn it off and work on the cube. I shouldn’t be long.” 

Keith nodded fervently. “Okay…” Lance crossed to his room, closing the door slightly so he could change clothes, but Keith could still hear him. “So, where are you going exactly?”

“Well… my mom rented out the main house when she was stationed offworld,” Lance said, hopping into a pair of jeans and pulling open another drawer to pull on a work shirt. “Since I’m still studying, I moved out here to the casita. She pays me to take care of the place for a little extra cash. I’m basically the landlord.”

“And you need to do landlord things…?” Keith called, voice dropping lower as Lance stepped into the room. Keith eyed Lance’s outfit as he grabbed a toolbox from beside the front door. 

“Yeah. Plumbing. Always fun.” Keith nodded, and Lance smiled sheepishly under his approving gaze. “Anyway, it won’t be too long.”

“Okay. See you soon,” Keith replied, and dutifully set to work finding the orange center square and solving the cross. Lance set out the door, pausing to take in Keith’s concentration face, practically glaring at the Rubik’s cube as he turned it back and forth. He chuckled to himself as he shut the door and headed to the main house. A stupid grin on his face, Lance hummed the cookie cat theme song and thought of dark hair and pretty eyes and all the ways he was well and truly screwed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, guys!! 
> 
> Check out art by my collaborator [biitterbatter on Tumblr!](http://biitterbatter.tumblr.com/) **There will be new art released with the next chapter!**
> 
> Beta blessings bestowed by GlassAlice. So go [follow GlassAlice on Tumblr!](http://yuzuling.tumblr.com/)


	4. Pizza Virgin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith discovers Steven Universe, Star Trek, and pizza. Lance has zero chill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I def owe you all an apology. I have really good excuses for my delay in releasing this chapter, but I'm still sorry I couldn't pull it together sooner.
> 
> I will be moving to a twice-monthly release (hopefully every other week, but I don't want to overpromise again). That should give me enough to time to finish editing on my own. 
> 
> More details in the end notes. For now, just enjoy the chapter!!!

It didn’t take long for Keith to fall in love with Steven Universe. At first he was only half observing, carefully making turns on the colored Rubik’s cube. But soon the cube lay forgotten at his side, leaning forward on the couch as he was drawn into the story. By all rights, it shouldn’t be so enthralling, but something about Steven made his heart feel more relaxed. At the end of the first story, Keith was certain Steven would achieve what he’d struggled for--his beloved cookie cat bars. Or at the least that he would use his power to save the day. But he didn’t. He failed. 

And somehow he was _fine_. 

Steven was just a child, one who would never get to savor his favorite ice cream bars ever again. And yet he was still happy. Keith briefly wondered how this--what, eight decaphoeb old kid? Ten?--managed to be more emotionally mature than his own sixteen decaphoebs. It wasn’t jealousy exactly; it was pointless being jealous of a two-dimensional character. Still, Keith decided he wouldn’t mind having a little of whatever it was that made Steven so special.

Lance sighed heavily as he finally stepped through the door and Keith’s face brightened as he did. He couldn’t help it; it was only natural since he’d spent all day alone watching what Lance had dubbed ‘the dregs of the entertainment industry’. Keith was desperate for some kind of conversation. And as much as he enjoyed Moreh’s company, Keith would kill to talk to someone that wasn’t gray-furred and incapable of responding. 

“Hey, man,” Lance said, tossing his bag beneath the table and dropping into the couch cushions at Keith’s right. His weight shifted the seat, jostling Keith and sliding him closer to Lance, their arms brushing lightly as Lance settled in. “So, I believe I promised you pizza. I’m starving. Are you starving?”

Keith took a breath, eyes dropping to the point where their arms touched and the warmth radiating there. He cleared his throat, which suddenly felt sticky and dry. “Uh… Yeah, I’m definitely hungry.” 

“Do you know anything about different types of pizza? Any idea what you’d want to try?”

Keith considered, pulling himself back to the moment. “I know Shiro likes pizza. He said they had lots of different types. But I think his favorite is corn and mayo?” Lance’s head whipped to the side so fast that Keith was afraid he might have hurt himself.

“O. M. G.” Lance pronounced each syllable in disgust. “Corn and mayo? That just _can’t_ be a real thing. You _must_ have heard him wrong. That is possibly the grossest combination of words I have ever had the misfortune to imagine.”

Keith’s eyes narrowed, tension bubbling up from his gut. He felt his face form into a dangerous expression. It was an old habit Shiro was trying to break him of, but right now Keith didn’t really care. If Lance thought he could call Keith’s intelligence into question without a fight, he had another think coming to him.

“I didn’t hear wrong. I may not be from around here, but I’m not an idiot. You want me to prove it? Corn is usually yellow, but it can be white, blue, purple, red, or multicolored,” Keith said, a look of stubborn determination tightening his features. “And mayo is made from eggs, but just the egg yolks if I’m right. Which I am.”

“Okay, Encyclopedia Brown, relax,” Lance said, one eyebrow cocked and a devilish grin on his face. Lance turned and leaned forward into his space. Keith was tempted for a moment to withdraw from the sudden advance. But his discomfort wasn’t as important as proving _he_ was right and _Lance_ was wrong. 

Lance reached past him to his bag, left discarded under the short table. Keith stubbornly held himself in place despite Lance’s close proximity. Pulling his communicator from the satchel, Lance sat back in his seat and began tapping furiously against its surface. “Let’s just see about this corn and mayo insanity.” 

“Let’s do that,” Keith spat, annoyance pursing his lips together. Lance leaned back to consult the communicator. He cast a gaze sideways at Lance’s defiant face and smirked. It was going to be _really_ satisfying wiping that smug look off his arrogant face. But the usual animosity that accompanied the sensation was fading for some reason. It was almost like Keith was… having fun? 

Suddenly Lance’s eyes widened, his jaw dropping open. “Oh, you’ve got to be _kidding_ me!”

“What?” Keith asked, leaning over Lance’s left shoulder to see, pressing in close to Lance’s side. Lance nudged him out of his space and Keith elbowed him back, eliciting a yelp. Seizing his opportunity, Keith leaned back in. 

There on the screen was a picture of round pizza, with what must be small yellow corn kernels and red and green vegetables, topped with a cross-hatch pattern of white mayo sauce. Keith gave a smug smile. 

“See? I told you.”

Lance spun his whole body, and Keith had to throw himself backward into the couch rather than be head-butted in Lance’s animated outburst. “This is basically cheating!” Lance insisted heatedly, gesticulating at his communicator with an open hand as if it hand betrayed him. Then one hand brandished the screen in his direction. 

“This is _Japanese_ pizza!” Lance’s ocean blue eyes glimmered as he pressed forward, filling Keith’s vision. A churning sensation settled somewhere in his chest and suddenly his hands were sweaty. “Everyone knows pizza is an American institution!”

Keith smirked, immediately coming back to himself. “I thought it was Italian.” He raised a brow, not daring to pull back. Keith might be stuck deep in that gaze, but he also _really_ wanted to prove Lance wrong. In every imaginable way. It made his victory that much sweeter. 

“Well… okay yes, it’s originally Italian,” Lance admitted and Keith snorted under his breath. Lance’s head turned, his eyes eventually pulling away to frown down at the screen. “What are the white things?”

“Why are you asking me?”

Lance cocked an eyebrow and turned back to Keith. “Well, apparently _you’re_ the expert on crazy Japanese pizza here.”

Keith shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess they’re probably potatoes?” Blinking, Lance drew the screen closer to his eyes, squinting at the image.

“Holy crow, you’re right! What even _is_ this?” Lance sighed, closing down whatever program he was operating and selecting a new icon. 

“This is you losing. To a guy who never set foot on your planet until two days ago.” Keith barely contained the grin that was forming across his features. “This must be really embarrassing for you.”

“You know what? I can’t handle this. I’m gonna order before my brain explodes,” Lance huffed. He pulled up another program on his communication device and scrolled past pictures of different pizzas until he found the one he wanted. “Since it’s your first foray into human fast food dining, we’re going all out.” 

Keith hadn’t even noticed he was leaning in until Lance’s head turned, face a breath away from his own. Lance’s eyes scanned over his face, down to his lips, and back up. Keith pulled back.

“I’m sorry,” he offered, chewing the corner of his bottom lip. His eyes flicked down to Lance’s own pouting lips for a moment, then casually peeled off to stare quite naturally at the ceiling. “I didn’t realize I was in your personal space.”

Lance sighed a half laugh, eyes flicking up to Keith with measuring glances. He met Lance’s gaze stubbornly.

“No problem, man. Uh…” Lance’s eyes finally broke away, trained down on the screen as he clicked a few buttons distractedly. Keith screwed up his lips nervously.

 _Don’t go alienating your only ally, Keith._

“You know, why don’t you go ahead and put on the next Steven Universe? It’ll take awhile for the pizza to show.”

“Sure.” Grabbing the remote, Keith tossed one more sidelong look at Lance’s face--barely managing not to linger too long--before pushing the button and cueing the intro. Lance sang along under his breath. He knew every word. It wasn’t long before he finished submitting his order and joined Keith in watching. 

“Oh!” Lance shouted, nearly leaping from his seat with the speed he shot forward. Keith started, pulling away instinctively before Lance swung a full-faced grin his way. “Together Breakfast!!!”

“Huh?” Lance stretched both arms out toward the screen and Keith watched. It took less than a dobosh to understand what he was talking about. 

Watching with Lance was a totally different experience than watching alone. He sang along to the songs and shoved into Keith’s side with his shoulder as he punctuated his commentary. Lance smiled and laughed at everything. It made the show twice as entertaining, just to see him grin like that. Keith found himself grinning, too, and watching Lance more than the show.

Somewhere in the middle of the episode, he realized what he was doing, and Keith shook his head to clear it. 

_No. Don’t do this, Keith. You’re just here to hide from the Galra and find Shiro. After that, it’s straight back to the Alteans. This is not the time to watch people’s smiles and stare at their bright blue eyes. Focus._ Keith set his jaw and continued watching, focusing on the screen rather than his host. They watched two episodes like that--Lance too close for comfort and Keith staring so hard at the screen he thought he might pull something. 

Lance didn’t move onto the next episode though, grabbing the remote to pause, his face contorting as he apparently thought too hard about something. Suddenly plunged into silence and Lance’s scrutiny, Keith scooped up the colored cube and set to work on the middle layer, desperate for something to distract him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lance look over at him with a smile that turned somehow mischievous. Lance laughed to himself, and Keith couldn’t help but ask.

“What?”

“Nothing. I just realized something,” Lance said, shaking his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before. Keith, you’ve never _seen_ anything. Like anything at all. You’ve never seen any shows or movies from Earth. Do you know what that _means?_ ”

Keith quirked an eyebrow. What kind of question was that? “Uh… I guess it means I’ve never seen anything?”

“Yes! Which means you know absolutely _nothing_ about Star Trek.”

Keith felt like he was walking into a trap, but his curiosity got the best of him. “What’s Star Trek?” he asked. 

“Exactly!!” Lance shouted, shoving a finger in Keith’s direction to make his point, but still grinning from ear to ear. Keith winced. “I have the most beautiful opportunity here. An audience completely unspoiled by popular culture. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find someone who doesn’t already know who Kirk and Spock are, or Picard? Admittedly, not everyone knows Jayneway, but… Oh, I’m getting ahead of myself. Keith, this is a pivotal moment for us. Would you... make me the happiest man on Earth… and watch Star Trek with me?”

“Uh…”

“Come on, Keith,” Lance whined. “Don’t make me get down on one knee, here.”

“Why would you get down on one knee?”

Lance’s face froze for a moment, a flush spreading across his cheeks as he blinked open mouthed. “Huh? Nothing. No reason. So… what d’you say?”

“Um... sure?”

“Look, I’m not gonna lie to you, buddy. This is a time commitment. The shows ran for decades in various iterations, and there are movies, too. Oh holy cheese, the movies! Could we start with a movie, Keith?”

“Lance, I have absolutely no idea what you’re even talking about,” Keith began, scanning over Lance’s soft eyes and hopefully raised brows, “but I have literally nothing else to do here. If you want to watch a movie, I’ll watch it with you.”

“Yes!!” Lance pumped an arm down and bounced on the couch, jostling against Keith in his enthusiasm. But he was smiling, so Keith couldn’t find it in him to be annoyed. “This is the best day of my life. You won’t live to regret this!”

“I-- Wait, _what?_ ”

“I’m kidding, man, relax.”

 

\---------------

 

This was a mistake.

This was a _huge_ mistake.

But not for the reasons Keith hoped.

He thought there would be opportunities to _watch_ Lance watch Star Trek, and that would make it fun, like Lance was when watching Steven Universe. Breaking his own rule of watching nothing but the screen? Sure. But he was certain Lance would be too distracted to notice. 

But he was wrong. This movie was nothing like Steven Universe. It was too real, and not just because it was acted out by people instead of two-dimensional characters. 

Breathing as best he could, Keith watched with eyes agape as a mysterious group of aliens began firing on the already disabled ship, its captain murdered without thought or mercy. Keith’s toes curled into the carpet as blasts ripped the vessel open, leaving its inhabitants to the merciless vacuum of space. Pressing back into the couch, Keith’s eyes began glassing as the surviving members made their way to escape pods, jettisoning… but leaving someone behind in the escape. 

Only a matter of doboshes in and Keith was barely holding on. He had to leave. He had to calm down. He could already feel the pressure in his chest, the buzzing in the back of his brain, and if he wasn’t careful its release would get someone hurt, or worse. He launched himself from the couch, stumbling from the room in his haste, ears registering Lance calling his name but brain refusing to conjure a suitable response. Soon he was standing in the bathroom, plum eyes blinking back at him in the mirror, breathing shallow breaths at an unhealthy speed. 

_Calm down, Keith. Breathe in three. Breathe out six. Picture the breaths filling your chest and all the way to your head. Now breathe it out and let it all go._

A knock at the closed door startled Keith, the buzzing fizzing through his brain before he could direct it. He heard a distant crack that echoed through the house.

 _Quiznak_.

“I’m sorry, man,” Lance’s voice drifted through the door. What was _he_ apologizing for. Keith was the one who just destroyed something. “Look, I didn’t mean to freak you out, Keith. I just wanted to check and make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine!” It was unconvincing to say the least, given how Keith’s voice wavered as he downright yelped it through the closed door.

“I mean, if you say so,” Lance began, the door shifting as Keith heard him put his full weight against it in its frame. “But if you weren’t fine, that’d be okay. And if you _weren’t_ fine, maybe... I could do something to help?”

Keith looked across the sink to spy himself in the mirror. Scrunching up his nose, opening his eyes too wide, then closing them too tight, Keith tugged his mouth to the left and right as if willing the muscles to return to normal. He breathed in once more and sighed out heavily. 

_You’re okay._

Keith nodded at his own thought and turned to the door, swinging it open. It gave resistance at first, and Keith soon understood why. Lance had been leaning against the door, and his frame fell backward bodily into Keith and knocked him to his knees. Lance yelped and Keith grunted under his his weight, hooking his arms under Lance’s to keep him from the floor, but ultimately dropping him down slowly after making impact himself, his arms still wrapped around Lance’s front.

“Holy crow!” Lance shouted, then started laughing. “Couldn’t have given me a little warning?”

“You were the one leaning against the door!” Keith accused, pinching the skin under Lance’s arm in frustration.

“Ouch!” Lance shouted, pulling forward and spinning around to face Keith with a lopsided grin. “Easy, man. The frisky business is a third date deal.”

Keith stared back at Lance, eyes somehow attempting to widen and narrow simultaneously, and almost certainly achieving some kind of awkward twitch. Lance’s lips shrugged and he laughed again, nervously this time, lifting an arm to scratch at the base of his neck. 

“I was just--That was just a joke,” he said. He was saved by a knock at the door. “And that’s the pizza. I’ll go pay. You just… take a minute.” Lance scooted to his feet and left Keith to his thoughts.

 

\---------------

 

“Okay,” Lance grinned as he spoke, but there was something behind his eyes that said he hadn't forgotten Keith's momentary meltdown, “so the first bite of your first pizza is kind of a huge deal. I don't even remember mine, but I wish I had photographic evidence to look back on. Or videographic evidence, in this case.”

“Are you seriously about to record me eating dinner?” Keith asked. 

“Of course not. I'm about to record your first Earth foodgasm.”

“Food- _gasm?_ ” Keith wasn't sure what kind of face he pulled, but if Lance's accompanying eyebrow wiggle was any indication, he must look pretty shocked. 

“Shiro didn't teach you that word, huh?” Lance smirked, placing a fresh slice of the pizza onto a paper plate and handing it across to Keith. “Well, it takes two words and combines them--food, and org--”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Keith practically shouted, feeling his face flush. Lance grabbed his communicator and aimed it at Keith, who frowned back. 

“Why do I have to do this on camera, again?”

“For posterity, Keith! You're an alien trying _pizza_ for the first time! Someone has to keep a record of important interspecies milestones.”

Keith stared incredulously at Lance over the communicator. “Me eating pizza is a milestone?”

“Absolutely. Now eat the damn pizza before it gets cold.” Lance momentarily spun the device back toward himself. “This is called Supreme Pizza, for the historical record.”

Rolling his eyes, Keith grabbed the pizza by its crust with a single hand, frantically readjusting when the tip nearly dipped forward to drop his toppings back onto the plate. That earned a joyful snigger from his documentarian companion, despite Keith catching it in time.

“Aren't you supposed to be an ambassador or something?”

“Oh relax, Keith, it was just a little laugh.” Keith shot Lance a warning gaze and took a bite. It tasted pretty much as good as it smelled, senses filling with a variety of flavors and textures--one of which he _definitely_ didn't care for. 

He swallowed, but Lance jumped on him before he could speak. “Okay, what's wrong with it?”

Keith took a deep breath and shrugged. “I liked it.”

“You just paused for like, three--like two full ticks. Besides, your face says otherwise. I can play this video back, I’ve got evidence.”

“Well… it’s just that there was something kind of… rubbery?”

“Oh,” Lance intoned, leaning forward and pointing with his free hand to an oddly-shaped brownish vegetable. “Was it this?” 

Keith picked it out from beneath some cheese and took a hesitant nibble.

“Llllugh. Yes.” Keith visibly shivered, and Lance chuckled, jostling the camera which he then spun back toward himself. 

“Well, there you have it folks. He doesn’t like mushrooms. We can only speculate as to the significance of such a discovery at this time. But one day, perhaps, we will be able to confront an age-old question from an _interstellar_ perspective--what is the worst pizza topping?” Keith snorted. What a dork. “This has been the first installment of Alien Encounters of the Domestic Kind. This is your host, Leandro Espinoza, signing off.” Lance pressed the screen and finally put the phone away, grabbing a slice for himself.

“Leandro?” Keith questioned as Lance filled his plate. “Not Lance?”

“Eh, Lance is just easier for people to say,” he replied. 

“Leandro doesn’t seem that hard.”

Lance looked up, an amused smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “You’d think that wouldn’t you? But if I had a nickel for every time someone said ‘LeeAnn-dro’ or ‘LeeAnn-der’ or just 'Leen-dro'...? I dunno, I guess I’d probably have a dollar or something. Whatever, it’s a lot of times.”

“So,” Keith began, unsure how to phrase his question, “the mushrooms...do I just eat around them?”

“Of course not,” Lance scoffed around a mouthful. “You pick them off with your fingers like a civilized person.” Keith laughed under his breath and set to work removing the mushrooms, depositing them on the plate. “It’s good to see you smile, though.”

Keith froze a moment, refusing to look up at Lance’s gaze as he pulled the last mushrooms from his pizza slice. He heard Lance sigh.

“I just mean, I’m glad you’re _feeling_ better… Y’know, than before.” 

“Yeah. I’m sorry I freaked out.” Then something occurred to him, and his head whipped up. “Wait, what did I break? I couldn’t control that one.”

“Pizza guy said the windshield of the car he parked behind just exploded for no reason. Insisted it wasn’t him, in case the owners complained,” Lance replied, pulling a second slice of pizza from the box. “Hopefully that’s covered in their insurance.”

“Quiznak.” Keith set down the plate on his lap. “More glass?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, that’s something. Maybe I should go apologize or… something.”

“Yeah, I mean I guess you do pass as human, but we can’t exactly march you out there in my pajamas. People would talk. And I really gotta get you some pants that fit.”

Twisting in his seat, Keith glanced over the too-long legs. “I’m fine wearing these around the house. It’s not like I have anywhere to go. And when I do leave, I can just wear my flight suit.”

“Right.” Lance frowned a moment, his face brightened. “But we’ve got at least another day before I hear back from my friend about Shiro. This being your first time on Earth and all, wouldn’t you rather go out and do some typically human things tomorrow?”

Keith squinted. “Human things like what?”

“Well, it’s the weekend. There’s food, movies, arcades, shopping. You name it.” Lance scanned over Keith’s frame. “Though if we’re going out, regular clothes will be a must.”

“I’ll just wear something of yours, then.”

“Keith, c’mon. My pants won’t fit you. Do you see these magnificent legs?” Lance gestured down his form with both hands. Keith thought it was better not to comment on that. 

“Then we can do something here. Just until Shiro shows.”

“ _Seriously?!_ You’re literally trapped in the smallest possible living space by square footage in greater metro area. You don’t want to get out of the house?”

“Won’t people be looking for me?”

“They’re looking for a guy in a flight suit. Unless… did anyone see your face?”

“I had my mask on. It keeps out the dust and heat.”

“Well, there you go! Pidge is still working on locating the second crash. And I’m off for the weekend anyway.” Lance’s shoulder shoved Keith’s. “So, guy’s day out?”

“Uh… Okay, yeah. That would be nice.”

“Cool cool. So,” Lance began, tossing his plate on the table in front of the couch, “I take it you don’t like Star Trek so far.”

“It’s not that I don’t like it. I’ve barely watched any of it. It’s just that I… what just happened, it…” Keith’s words stuttered to a stop, brain completely failing him in the echoes of what he’d seen.

Lance’s brows furrowed in genuine concern. “What is it?”

“I just crash landed, right?” Keith sighed, biting the inside of his cheek. “But before that I was on an Altean cruiser. The Harborage. We were attacked by the Galra. They boarded using their Rip Ships, just tore us apart. A lot of sections were depressurized in the assault. I managed to get to a pod, but…. We lost a lot of good people, and I’m not sure how many just got left behind.”

“That’s why you ran off.” It wasn’t a question. Keith nodded. Dropping his forehead into his hands, Lance let out a long, muffled groan. “What the cheese is _wrong_ with me?” He lifted his head. “You were literally just in a space battle and I thought, ‘You know what would make good relaxing entertainment? _Another space battle!_ ’ ”

“You didn’t know.”

Lance’s face showed he was less convinced, knocking his head back and forth with a skeptical expression. “Well, I did a little… I’m sorry, Keith. We don’t have to watch this.”

“You _love_ this, though. I’d like to try watching it.”

“No, that’s not gonna work,” Lance insisted, leaning closer to whisper, “You could have another… _windshield incident!_ ”

“Do the Galra win?”

“The Romulans you mean? You want me to spoil the ending?!” Lance looked genuinely scandalized, nose curled up like he’d smelled something foul.

Keith shifted his gaze away, considering. “Well, there aren’t… no one gets really hurt or, like... tortured or anything, do they?”

“Uh…” Lance squinted his eyes, shooting Keith a measuring look, and speaking in a careful monotone, “no major characters, no. There’s some beating people up, but more like a fight.”

Keith nodded, trying to look certain as he held Lance’s gaze. “I should be fine.”

“Playing with gravity and vacuum and freefall on camera are kind of the highlight of this film, though. Are you sure?” Concern continued to tense around Lance’s eyes as he observed Keith. 

“I’m fine. As long as it’s not all as depressing as this first part.”

Lance’s features relaxed into a fond smile. “I mean, this opening makes me cry every time.”

Frowning, Keith rolled his head to the opposite shoulder. “You didn’t cry this time.”

“I was watching you, not the movie. And frankly, you were freaking out.”

Keith paused at that. _Lance_ was watching _him?_

“But I don’t cry for the rest,” Lance added.

“Then I’ll be okay, too,” replied with a nod. Lance still didn’t seem convinced. “I’m okay now, Lance. I promise.”

Tentatively grabbing the remote, Lance settled back into the couch and eyed Keith expectantly. Keith quickly grabbed his plate, mushrooms already scattered across it, and took a bite of the now unsullied slice. 

“You ready?” Lance asked. Keith continued chewing, but shook his head. “Everything okay?” He swallowed and took a deep breath. 

“They’ll all remember his name. Everyone on that ship will remember what Kirk did.”

“Yeah, I like to think they tell the story to their kids.” Keith shook his head again. It wasn’t just sentiment for him, and for some reason he needed Lance to understand. Maybe Lance had been right about what he said at the bathroom door. Maybe Keith _wasn’t_ fine. And maybe Lance really could help.

“No, I mean… it’s…” Keith fumbled for words, groaning in frustration and uttering just one. “Villads.”

Lance dropped the remote into his lap. “What’s Villads?”

“ _Who_ ,” Keith corrected, putting his empty plate on the coffee table. “An Altean pilot. When I launched, my pod went on minimal power so it couldn’t be targeted, but I drifted into the firefight. She’s the pilot who took out the cannons that would have torn me apart. I’m sure she saved others, too.”

“Wow.”

“But then a Galra fighter took Villads down, right after I cleared the field. I was going to thank her.” 

“Oh.” Lance didn’t say anything else. And honestly, what could he say? 

Keith took a breath, his chest feeling less tight, and continued, “They’ll always remember Kirk. Trust me.” Lance leaned into his side, warmth seeping through their joined arms. 

“Yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading!!!! As I said, I'm sorry for the delay. But I'm absolutely gonna keep to my revised schedule. **Twice monthly release!** I'm already finishing the editing for Chapter 5!!
> 
> I had some big mental health issues over the past couple months, which really came to a head just before Chapter 3 was released. That's also the week my editor told me they would have to back out for the rest of the project. With everything I was already dealing with, I just lost all motivation to write, edit, or do just about anything. But things are really starting to look up, and I'm ready and raring!
> 
> Thank you so much to @biitterbatter, who not only provided wonderful artwork, but who helped me find my inspiration again. He also helped with some content editing and general cheerleading. Please check out the amazing [biitterbatter on Tumblr!!!!](http://biitterbatter.tumblr.com/)
> 
> You can also [follow me on Tumblr!](http://starbuck-7.tumblr.com/) It's mostly nerd stuff, my fics, and me complaining about writing. Lol. Anyway, see you all in a couple weeks!!

**Author's Note:**

> THANK YOU FOR READING!! I love comments, so send them my way! 
> 
> Very special thanks go out to cecetrash, without whom this fic would not exist. The inspiration for this work and also the creator of some beautiful artwork in this Living Weapon AU. Check them out, there's more art to come next chapter!! [Follow biitterbatter on Tumblr!](http://biitterbatter.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Gobs of thanks go to GlassAlice, who helped beta the first few chapters. (why can't I just write one-shots like everyone else???) Anyway, [follow GlassAlice on Tumblr!](http://yuzuling.tumblr.com/)


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